Women envy my luscious, thick hair, but it's a hassle – I took a bold step to thin it out, and my friends were shocked!

WOMEN envy my thick hair and I can’t deny that I love it when people compliment me on it. Chestnut-coloured and glossy, it frames my face perfectly.

And if I had a pound for every time someone said, “I wish I had hair like yours”, I’d be a very rich woman. But the truth is, my ‘perfect’ hair is actually a nightmare.

Maria, on her wedding day to Noah, reveals her enviable thick hair isn’t as effortless as it looks Credit: Supplied Maria says her locks hate humidity and rain, and need a ton of hairspray to behave Credit: Supplied

When I got earlier this year, I had two ceremonies because my biggest worry was my hair.

Our first was in Florence, , and I knew if I wore it down I’d run the risk of battling with a hot, heavy curtain of hair all day. I’d have been constantly sweeping it out of my face, worrying about my and feeling hot and flustered. A sleek chignon was the only way I’d survive our nuptials.

A month later, during our second wedding in front of family in , my long, thick, glossy locks finally got their moment.

With Scottish temperatures nowhere near as punishing as Florence, I wore them down, without fearing I’d overheat halfway through the celebrations.

It’s always been the case that the first thing most people see when I walk into a room is my hair.

With one in four women (around 8 million) affected by and in the UK, it’s perhaps no surprise that those who are blessed with ultra-thick, shiny hair often become the subject of envy.

In one survey, 34 per cent of women said the worst thing about hair loss was “feeling less attractive than other women”.

But spare a thought for women like me.

I do NOT wake up looking like I have stepped out of a L’Oréal ad. If I want to look even halfway decent before going out, washing and styling it takes a good 40 minutes.

And at hair salons it’s even worse. I don’t have enough fingers and thumbs to tally the number of times hairdressers have unevenly cut my hair, or styled it in a fashion that has dropped out minutes after leaving the salon.

And I always know things will go south when the first thing they say is, “You’ve got a lot of hair, haven’t you?”

I come from a family of women who all have hair like mine. In fact, my nanna loved to remind me that my thick, brown mane came from her.

Throughout my childhood I loved Mum brushing and styling it. It was therapeutic for me and bonding for us.

When I went to high aged 11, I started to do it myself. My icons were the , and Avril Lavigne. They all had poker straight hair, as was the trend in the early 2000s.

With my thick hair, achieving that look meant waking up at 6:30am every day, as it took me a full hour just to straighten it.

Even though my hair is naturally wavy, I’d scrupulously run it through the hot iron plate. If it rained on the way to school? It frizzed.

So, can you blame me for getting it cut in my teens? My nanna was brilliant with a pair of scissors and hacked it to my shoulders when I was 13. However, my hair was so thick it was a hard look to pull off and was quite voluminous.

A year later, I went to a salon and had choppy layers put in. It went puffy on top and looked ridiculous.

Maria pictured with her hair up on her wedding day in Florence Credit: bellelumierephotography.co.uk Her husband Noah said he was always attracted to her hair, but hates when she cuts it short Credit: Matt Marcus Maria even got her hair shaved at the back to reduce some of the weight Credit: Supplied

After years of not getting my lush hair quite right, by 16 I felt I had nailed it when I started wearing it wavy. I’d get loads of compliments from friends like, “You look like you’ve stepped out of a hair commercial” and “I love your supermodel hair!”

When I got my school yearbook picture taken someone said, “Wow Maria, you’re all hair.”

I went to university to study , because I had aspirations of becoming a singer, and said “au revoir” to tinkering with my hair length and had it cut into a bob.

When I graduated, my hair was just past my shoulders and the general opinion on my look was “very chic”.

But what everyone was forgetting is that thick, naturally wavy hair requires more maintenance than a contestant. It hates humidity and rain, needs constant pampering and a ton of hairspray to behave.

I even went to the length of having it shaved at the back of my head to reduce some of the weight.

Older loved ones were horrified, saying it was “too drastic”, and I promised not to do it again. But at the time it was really convenient: if I had a shower and put my hair up, it didn’t get wet and the weight of it was a lot less too.

Ten years ago, when I met my husband Noah while working in the events and hospitality industry, he said he was always attracted to my hair.

But he hates it when I cut it short. He also cannot stand finding long strands embedded in the carpet, blocking practically every plughole, or in our bed.

He hates finding my locks in the shower the most. Not in the plug hole – I clear it from there – but I stick the numerous wet strands onto the shower door and apparently it’s “disgusting”.

As for whether I tie it up or leave it down when we have , it depends very much on how we feel in the moment.

I a week. I know I should do it more frequently, because I run and work out.

But the truth is, I can’t be bothered because the whole process takes so long.

First, I brush out my hair while it’s dry, which takes five minutes.

In the shower I double wash it with shampoo. Experts have suggested I invest in pricey shampoos, but it’s not for me. I get through a bottle a month and I reckon that’s normal.

It takes a good 15 minutes to shampoo it properly and wash all of the product out. If I don’t take that amount of time, then I can (and have) walked out of the shower with suds still in my hair.

It then takes me ten minutes to brush my hair again once it’s washed, and I’ll usually finger-dry it, which takes another 20 minutes.

Blow-drying it for ages means that the constant heat can damage my hair.

Some might think my hair is out of a L’Oréal ad, but it takes time and dedication to look like this.

Is my hair a blessing, or a curse?

I love how it looks when it is styled, but it takes an awful long time for it to look – and stay looking – this good.